


Repeat

by rhith



Category: Shinhwa (Band)
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhith/pseuds/rhith
Relationships: Kim Dongwan/Lee Minwoo
Kudos: 1





	Repeat

You go through life as if things were going to get better. People tell you “This is just a bump in the road to success.”

They were lying like the imbeciles they were.

You also go through life thinking the only one person you love would never hurt you. You tell yourself that it was an accident the first time…he was angry and had every reason to be.

Then it happens again…you just say _‘Oh he just lost his temper…that’s all.’_

Lies.

Again and again it happens.

You continue to lie to yourself. _‘He doesn’t mean it’_.

Bullshit.

\--

“Where did that come from?”

You look up at your friend, ‘Where did what come from?’

Your friend points at your arm, “The bruise on your arm…it’s all purple.”

You look down at your arm and shrug as you tell a lie. ‘I ran into a cabinet.’

Liar.

Your friend just nods their head, “Oh.”

This is how the morning went. Your friend would ask about a bruise that would appear on your arm. You lie. You both sit in silence until you decide it’s time to go to work.

Work. Work. Work.

You sit at a table staring at a piece of paper your manager gave you. You just sit there staring while people around you talk…sometimes yell.

You were a star. An idol. An actor. A singer.

You had a small acting career. You sang as a solo artist along with a group with five other men.

You kept yourself busy, so you didn’t realize how empty of a shell you were. How incompetent you really were.

After your so-called-work, which was you staring at a paper pretending to listen to your manager, you went to lunch.

Lunch with three of the five men you are in a group with. You eat some food, not that much food, since the sickening gurgle in your stomach refuses any food.

They never notice the bruises on your arms…since you wore a sweater when going out with them. Only in the morning did one of the five men in your group know.

Blah blah blah is all you hear from their mouths. You just sit there staring at your pathetic excuse of a sandwich…wishing it would just magically burst into flames. Since nothing else in your empty shell of a life was exciting.

After a boring, dragged out lunch, you take a cab to your apartment. The shit hole it was.

You sit in your living room and wait. One hour. Two hours.

Then you hear the front door click. Your back straightens as you stare at the doorway, without a door, of the living room.

He walked his way into the living room, sucking on a cancer stick. His hair a mess as the hairs on his face made him look ragged. His shirt buttons were undone showing off his tan chest.

You loved this man.

He blew smoke into the air and made his way to you. You stare at him; waiting for the moment when he would grab your hair, pulling you head back into a forty-five degree angle and kiss your chapped lips.

The taste of cigarettes, alcohol and a woman -who you only knew of- in his mouth, now making its way into yours.

He pulls back and takes a long drag on his cigarette before he stomps it out on your carpet.

All those little holes in your carpet.

He stares down at you as his hands start to undo his belt. “Take off your shirt…”

You grab the ends of your shirt and lift it over your head slowly. Revealing the bruises and cuts on your chest, sides and back.

He drops his belt onto the floor; you notice he wore the thicker belt buckle. He stepped closer to you and undid the button on his pants. Followed by the zipper.

He didn’t wear underwear. At least when with you.

You stare up at him, waiting for him to grab your hair and demand that you suck him dry.

“Suck it.” He demands.

Your hands, no longer shake, when you pull his cock out from the denim prison.

It was hard and throbbing, ready for you to engulf it completely. You glance up at his expression.

Do it. Or else.

So you do it. Just like any other night.

Suck away until he makes you swallow his seed. He pushes you away and grabs the belt.

“Strip down…” He says as he wraps the belt around his clenched fist.

All clothes off. He punches you right in the ribs. They crack like sticks.

Punch after punch…followed by whipping. The thick belt buckle rips against your skin, cutting and bruising.

The night goes on. He gets on top of you, slamming that born-again cock into your ass. Tearing any healed tissue from the previous times.

He finishes. He bites you above you left collarbone. Making the already mark worse.

You were his.

He gets dressed. Tells you he’ll be back tomorrow. Same time as always.

Then he leaves…to fuck a woman -who you only knew of- until they both pass out.

The empty shell, that is you, lays there. Staring at the ceiling, that has mildew stains in the corner, you whisper to yourself, _‘He doesn’t mean it.’_

How can one person inflict pain to someone they loved? They can’t. He didn’t love you. He used you. Since the woman he had wasn’t enough.

You finally get your empty shell of a body out of bed.

You shower. A cold shower to numb yourself. From pain...suffering…betrayal.

Then you sleep. And repeat the day.

One of the five guys asks, “Where did that come from?”

You lie.

Go to work.

Blah Blah blah.

Lunch.

Cab ride home.

He comes.

Suck.

Beat.

Fuck.

Shower.

Sleep.

Repeat.

\--

Over and over. Until you finally break away from your empty shell.

He works on undoing his belt, “Suck it.”

‘No.’

He stares down at you, eyes wide, full of anger, “What did you say?”

You stare at him and grab him between the leg and squeeze. ‘No.’

He grunts and tries to release your grip but you squeeze tighter. ‘You are no longer going to use me.’

He grabs your hair and tugs, “Let go, bitch!”

You yanked hard, causing him to scream in pain. Sweet delicious pain.

He falls to his knees. You grin, liking the site of him on his knees for once in pain.

Endorphin and Testosterone running free in your mind and body. The power to dominate the man on his knees, growing bigger.

Make him pay.

Whap! You hit the belt buckle against his side.

He screams…like the pathetic man he was. His clothes rip from the buckle, along with his skin.

You demand that he strips down. He has no other choice but to listen. You could see his balls were turning a nice purple color from you yanking them hard. He wasn’t going to use that any time soon. Especially not in some woman.

You kick his side, causing him to fall. ‘How does it feel?’

He doesn’t answer. You kick him and repeat the question.

“It hurts.”

‘Well too fucking bad…” You say as you get on top of him, ‘I’m going to make you bleed out of your ass…the same way you have done to me. Over and over…and over…’

You shove your own erected cock into his tight ass. Into the sad excuse of a man, who used to do the same.

You love every minute.

The screams of pain. The warm feel as you rip through him.

He deserves it. He hurt you for so long. He had to pay.

You finish. You bite him too. He’s yours.

You stare at the dead expression on his face. Asking you why? Why did you do this?

You stroke his face with your fingers, ‘You have done this to me…’

He looked away in pain. It was over between you and him.

\--

“Did you hear me?”

You look up, “Hear what?”

“I said his girlfriend left him…” Your friend stared at you, “Apparently he stopped touching her and she was sick of him pretty much hiding from her.”

‘Oh.’

“That’s all you have to say?” Your friend sighs and looks down at his coffee mug, “I hear he’s a mess…”

_‘Serves him right.’_ You say to yourself in your head. He deserved it.

The day went on like any other day.

Work.

Lunch.

Home.

Then he came.

You stare at him; you had been sitting there on your couch watching TV. You turn it off.

‘Why are you here?’ You ask.

“I need you…”

‘Need me?’ You grin slightly.

He walks over to you, and falls to his knees, “Please…forgive me. I need you back in my life. I promise…I won’t hurt you again. I love you.”

Your grin gets wider. It worked. He was now yours. You take his hands, ‘I promise I won’t hurt you again either…’

The days repeated like before. Without the beatings that is.

The sucking and fucking are replaced by sweet love making.

You, the empty shell, now full.

\--

Morning coffee.

Work.

Lunch.

Home.

Sex.

Sleep.

Then repeat.


End file.
